A Dire Solution
by mbeck
Summary: David is living in NYC at the end of 1981 and things are beginning to look bad. Just when he starts to think his affliction may have run its course, he's thrust into a situation with no good choices and his sister's life at stake. This takes place after Homecoming and features appearances by Helen and D.W. Banner.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1.**

 **A Night on the Town.**

Dr. David Banner locked the door to his apartment, opened the glass door to a nearby cabinet that housed a fire extinguisher and placed his key inside, just out of view. It was a precaution he'd taken everyday since the very beginning of his stay at Golden Estates. He knew from past experience that if he were to transform into the creature while he was out and lost his key, he'd have to break into his apartment when he got back. That was a scene he wanted to avoid. Besides, the date marked on the fire extinguisher told him it hadn't been checked in six years, so he figured his key was fairly safe there.

He zipped up his jacket as he went down the 8 flights of stairs and out onto the street. He struck off south, toward work.

It was the end of a beautiful autumn day, and the setting sun created tunnels of light as it shone down the westward streets. A young couple nearby held hands as they stopped in front of a jewelry store and browsed window display. The woman leaned her head on the mans shoulder like an idyllic young couple in love. It was a Norman Rockwell painting come to life.

David's only thought at the scene was that he wasn't in love with the city, but New York City offered an excellent opportunity to hide. It was easy for one man to melt into the background in a sea of seven million, especially when most people were too busy in their own lives to even notice anyone else.

As he stopped at the crosswalk to 10th avenue he noticed he was standing next to a buxom young woman in a red dress with dark, curly hair and shapely legs. As they crossed over to 10th ave, he reflected idly that while she didn't seem to fit "his type" of woman, he found her attractive nonetheless. She was not as tall or slender as Laura or Elaina, and her sense of style was different too. Her face was pretty, but there was a certain hardness to it that was different than Caroline's. Caroline's was due to a seriousness in how she approached life, but this woman seemed more stoic and closed to the world outside; harder in some way.

That was a feeling he could appreciate. Nearly 5 years of living on the run from the local authorities, the reporter McGee, and himself most of all, had worn him down. An earlier version of himself would have struck up a conversation with the woman on the street. But these days he seemed to be just going through the motions; an observer in his own life instead of a participant.

He was roused from his thought by a muffled cry, cut short: "NO! LET ME GO! WHAT ARE YOU-"

It was a woman's voice and it came from an alley nearby. He stopped and looked around, realizing that he was now alone on the empty street.

Ever the reluctant hero, David made his way to the alley where he had heard the scream. As he got further down the alley and off the street, he got closer to the heart of the events. He saw the girl with the curly hair in the red dress that he had first noticed on the street. She was struggling with three men who were trying to pull her through a door and into what looked like an abandoned building.

"Hey - leave her alone!" David heard himself shout.

The thugs stopped what they were doing and looked at each other for a second, in disbelief. Two of the men let go of the young woman and walked toward David. The other man continued trying to shove the woman through the door.

"This don't concern you." Said the taller of the two men, while the other bent down to pick up a broken piece of masonry off the ground.

"Look, I don't want any trouble, so why don't you guys just move on? Leave her alone and I won't call the cops." David had his hands held out in front of him with his palms up, to show he meant no harm.

"Ha.. Get a load of this guy, Jimmy. He's gonna do us a favor." Said the taller man, as Jimmy moved to out-flank David and prevent him from fleeing to the street to find the police.

David was unaware of that however as his attention was taken by the woman who had managed to shrug off the third man's grip and was able to shout a desperate plea of "HELP ME!"

As Jimmy struck David in the back of the head with the brick, David could feel his sense of apathy suddenly replaced with a surge of exhilaration; powered by rage and anger. It was as if a dam had burst inside him. The transformation used to fill him with a sense of terror and feeling of losing all control. It was like being on a roller coaster that felt like it would leave the track at the height of its ascent. But lately the sensation had grown more powerful and fear had given way to excitement. He was no longer terrified but eager to take the ride.

That realization frightened a part of him in the recesses of his mind. Then he blacked out.

 **Job Loss.**

David awoke shivering on a cardboard box full of old clothes. It was now morning, and he had no shirt, no shoes and a pair of jeans that were ripped halfway down each leg. What remained of the tattered jeans swung freely as he stood. He had no recollection of the events of the night before, only that he was making his way down 10th avenue on his way to work when he heard a woman scream. He knew he had to get back to his apartment and into some clean clothes before he could begin to piece together what had happened.

With the air of a man resigned to misfortune, he began to rummage through the box of abandoned clothes. He found a shirt that was slightly too big and some pants that almost fit. He put them on anyway, left the pants zipped but unbuttoned. He found no shoes, but two mismatched socks. He put them on anyway, because his feet were freezing, and struck out for his apartment. He realized he was now several blocks away from the alley on 10th avenue, which was the last place he remembered. He made his way back. No one seemed to notice him. He looked like one of the homeless multitude that wandered the street, pan-handling. It was a welcome bit of anonymity in David's interrupted life.

He staggered into his apartment and shut the door behind him. It felt very much like he was shutting out the world. He went into the bathroom and took off the filthy clothes he had been wearing. He washed up in the sink and left the bathroom. He grabbed some clean clothes from his bag on the floor by the bed. As he buttoned his shirt, he sat on his bed and surveyed his surroundings. His apartment was a one room efficiency; a kitchen area with a two burner gas stove and half size refrigerator opposite the bed, and a bathroom barely big enough for one. His bed was a couch by day, but he mostly just left it as a bed these days.

The phone rang. David knew who it was even before he answered.

"Hello Mr. Harrison...", David said.

"Hello David." Larry Harrison was David's boss and owner of Regal Tower Apartments where David worked as a 3rd shift maintenance man. Truth be told, it was more tenement than apartment building, but the work was easy and the pay was steady. Best of all - it was low visibility, so he could stay out of sight.

"David, I'm going to have to let you go."

"But Larry, I know I missed work, but it won't happen again.. I-"

"Look kid, I know you've got some personal problems right now, but so do I. And I need to know that I have someone I can count on to be at their desk when a call comes in... " Larry was always calling David "kid", which irritated him greatly at first. David was in his 40's and nowhere close to being a kid, but then he realized Larry called just about everyone "kid." David speculated that when you're pushing 70, everyone looks like a kid. Besides, Larry was a good man and a good boss.

Larry went on, "The fact of the matter is that you weren't at your desk last night, and missed the call about the water heater. Now I've got angry tenants with no running water and the city office of Housing & Development has already contacted me about legal ramifications. I'm sorry kid, but I'm going to need someone else, if I even have an apartment building after all this mess... You can come by the office later today and get your last check." and with that the line went dead.

 **False Bottom.**

The next thing David knew, it was an hour later and he was still holding the phone. _Where had the time gone?_ David got up and got into bed, even though it was only 9:30 in the morning. He realized he was bone weary after the events of last night, but he wondered if it wasn't more than that.

For the next several days his routine consisted largely of sleeping and watching the sun make its way across his room. He only got out of bed to drink and use the bathroom.

By the time he finally felt any urge to get up and do something, it was Thursday and his rent was due in a week and a half. He knew he needed to get a job in the next day or to if he was going to be able to make his rent payment. With what seemed a Herculean effort; he managed to get up, shave, shower and dress. He went down to the street and found a newspaper booth, bought the daily paper and went back to his apartment.

Three hours later, he sat by the phone with the want ad section neatly folded to the current page of circled jobs. They all had X's crossed through them. He had called all of them, and none panned out. They wanted something he didn't have - a valid driver's license, a college degree, years of provable experience in the given field. He had all these things and more, but as David Banner, not David Bismuth. He couldn't even provide a simple reference, since all of his job history had been under assumed identities different from the one he now used.

He marveled, not for the first time, how far he had fallen. Once a leading scientist in his field on the verge of a great discovery. He had a home and a career with a network of friends and colleagues that spanned the globe. Now, he was a hapless victim of his own impatience. An itinerant man living hand-to-mouth in a one room hovel that he was likely to be thrown out of in the days ahead.

He felt like crying, but the tears would not come.

For the first time in days, he felt hungry. He moved to the kitchenette and opened the tiny fridge. Peering inside, he saw only a head of spoiled lettuce. The cabinets were no more fruitful. He didn't even have so much as a can of soup left. He resigned himself to braving the world outside to find some food.

David passed the Empire Dinner on his way to the corner convenience store and saw a "Help Wanted" sign in the window. He figured he had nothing to lose at this point, so he went inside.

The inside of the diner was a cacophony of controlled chaos. Waitstaff bustled to and fro, while patrons engaged in vigorous discourse. David made his way to the young woman at the cash register.

"Excuse me, could I speak to the manager please? I'm interested in the job."

Without missing a beat the woman turned to yell over her shoulder, "Hey Bobby, tell Dan he's got someone interested in the job!"

Another young woman wearing a waitress uniform nodded her acknowledgment and went toward the back of the diner.

"Mr. Richardson will be with you in a moment sir. If you'd like, you can have a seat while you wait." She motioned him toward the bench behind him, near the coat rack.

David didn't have to wait long before the boss came to see him.

Dan Richardson was only a bit older than David. He wore blue dress pants and a cream colored button shirt with the neck opened. He wore no tie or jacket, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to just below his elbows. His sandy brown hair was cut just below the top of his ears and parted to the right.

"So you're looking for a job?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, I need a new waiter. This place is pretty hectic during the peak business times. You think you can handle it?" Dan's bright blue eyes seemed to burn through David as he took his measure.

"Yes sir. I know I don't have a lot of experience, but I assure you I can keep up." He had waited tables in a small truck stop out west once, but that was much more laid back than any place in New York City.

Dan look at him thoughtfully for a few moments, and then nodded his head as if deciding something internally. "Alright. I'll give you a chance. You can think of it as a probationary period, say, 2 weeks. If you can't hack it by then, I'm going to have to cut you loose."

"Thank you Mr. Richardson."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

 **It's Different This Time.**

David was on his way to work for the evening shift and there was a continual stream of cold rain pouring down outside as he came in the employee entrance at the diner. He heard a song by Eddie Rabbit playing on the radio as he hung up his coat. David considered for a moment and determined that he did not love this rainy night. December in the city was cold enough without the rain.

"Hi David," Susan said as she came back to get a pen and paper. She was a friendly 20-something, with shoulder length blond hair and a jaunty bounce in her step.

"Hello Susan."

"It's been a slow night. Ellie and I are thinking of bugging out early and going to the movies. We want to see _Neighbors_. I've heard good things, and I love John Belushi!"

Even the way she emphasized the word 'love' irritated him. David just grunted a non-committal "mm-hmm," and put his apron on.

An hour into his shift, a group of teenaged boys came in and sat down in his section.

"I just liked the first movie better", said a boy with fair red hair.

"I dunno," said another, "I liked Eastwood better as Dirty Harry." He then reenacted the popular 'Do I feel lucky?' scene, using a 3rd boy as his counterpoint.

"What can I get you boys?" David asked as he stopped at their table.

The boy who fancied himself as Dirty Harry looked David up and down and said, "You can get us Cindy, this is her shift ain't it?"

"Not tonight," David replied, shaking his head. "She took the night off, so you've got me instead."

"Guess she's not as sweet on you as you thought, eh Micky?!" the third boy taunted.

"Hey, watch it or I'll rearrange your face, Tompkins!"

Tompkins held up his hands in mock innocence, while the red headed boy said, "Three coffees to start."

David nodded and headed off to get the coffee. As he passed another of his tables, a man grabbed his arm.

"Hey buddy, I ordered a meatball sub. This is chicken parm!"

"I'm sorry sir. That's my mistake."

"You're damn right it is."

"I'll get you the meatball instead."

"Don't bother. Just get me the check, and make sure I'm not charged for this," the man shoved the dinner plate with disgust in David's direction. He heard the man muttering something about the poor quality of service as David made his way behind the counter. David knew that Dan was likely to take the cost of the chicken parm dinner out of his pay, but he Just didn't care.

He dropped the check off to the man on his way back to the table of teens with three coffees.

"Alright, here you are: three coffees. Can I get you boys anything else?"

"Yeah pops, you can get me a stack of pancakes and bacon, Tompkins will take a southwestern omelet with toast, and you can get Randy here two buttermilk waffles with sausage on the side," said Mickey with a grin. Randy and Tompkins snickered.

David sighed. "We stop serving breakfast after 11:00 AM. But you were expecting Cindy to be working this shift, so you already knew that, didn't you Mickey? Now would you like to order something else, or are you done wasting my time?"

At this challenge, Mickey's smile disappeared and he looked icily at David. "Just bring us the check."

David tore off the top check of his pad and placed it firmly on the table before walking away.

The next six hours of his shift passed at a snails pace. He busied himself with cleaning coffee pots, restocking napkin holders and salt and pepper shakers. He managed to avoid being drawn into any conversations with Susan or Ellie, though he could feel them staring at him while they spoke in hushed tones.

At the end of his shift, David hung up his apron and punched out. He stepped outside and a blast of cold air struck him in the face, as if old man winter himself had reached out to slap him. Once the sun went down, the brutal winter wind would rip through the canyons of steel and cut a man as sure as a razor blade. He was glad to see it finally stopped raining and was thankful he had his heavy wool Pea coat.

He became aware of three figures following him as he made his way downtown. He turned back to see who it was and realized it was the three teens from earlier that night. Once they saw David turn their way, the trio hustled up to David and gave him a shove from behind. David lost his footing on the slick road, but managed to regain it in time to avoid landing face-first on the pavement.

"Hey, what's your problem?" David asked.

"You, pops." came Mickey's reply.

Tompkins gave David another shove.

"Stop that!" Shouted David.

"Make me," taunted Tompkins. He gave David another shove

"I'm warning you - don't make me angry"

This only made the motley trio laugh before they all grabbed David and threw him headfirst into a group of trash cans at the end of an alley. David hit the ground hard. Before he knew it, he was being kicked savagely by the three teens. He reached out in agony at a nearby broomstick in the pile of trash. He managed to grab it and swung it round in anger at the boy nearest to him. The swing caught Mickey in the ankle and he fell down, grasping his wound and swearing. Tompkins and Randy took a step back to avoid being hit.

David could feel his anger overwhelm him and he gave himself over to it completely. Before he had time to think, he was standing again and raining hard blows with the broomstick down on Mickey. He kept hitting and hitting until the broomstick broke and the boys fled back to the street, Tompkins and Randy dragging a whimpering Mickey behind them.

Panting, David stood looking down at the broken broomstick still in his pale white hand. He dropped the stick and it's hollow clattering echoed down the empty alley.

"My God, what's happening to me?"

 **The Call.**

It was a week before Christmas and David was beginning to reconsider his decision to stay in New York City this time of year. Even though there was little snow on the ground, it was brutally cold owing to a nearly constant wind that would rip through a person. The non-stop stream of chilling rain didn't help either. Weather this cold, wet and miserable was hard to handle at the best of times, but it was especially difficult being so close to Christmas. He longed for the snowy winters of his youth.

Christmas had always been his favorite holiday growing up. He loved having the family together, including extended family; the relatives from out of town that he only saw on such occasions. Thanksgiving was a close second, but that was just after harvest season and he hated the harvest, growing up on a farm. Christmas was much more relaxing. Even though it was colder, the snow didn't get into your bones the way this New York rain did.

The television news droned on in the background, as David opened the can of chicken-noodle soup and poured the contents into the pot on the stove.

"President Ronald Reagan issued a stern warning to Moscow today over what he calls 'soviet aggression' in Poland..."

As he stirred the soup, his thoughts drifted back to last Thanksgiving, when he spoke to his dad on the phone. He had kept the fact that he survived the fire at the Culver Institute a secret even from his family up until the previous Thanksgiving, when he could no longer bear to be away. He remembered helping his sister Helen develop new ways to rid his dad's crops of the insects that were plaguing him. That was last year. This year, when David had called to check in with Helen and his Dad, he was told that Helen had been battling Anemia. Though his dad had told him it was a mild case, the news still made the bottom of his stomach drop out. He couldn't help but think of his mother. She had suffered from a severe case when David was a boy, before she passed away. Lost in thought, David almost let the soup boil over.

"In Nicaragua, Sandinista soldiers have killed 75 miners. The miners had been demanding back wages for work unpaid...", continued the television broadcast.

David removed the soup from the burner, poured it into a bowl and poured a glass of water.

"Channel 7 Nightly News will be back after this commercial break."

As David sat down to his soup at the table, he was startled by the ringing telephone. He hadn't received a call since Larry fired him from his maintenance job over a month ago. He almost forgot he even had a telephone. He turned off the T.V. and answered the telephone.

"Hello?"

"David?"

"Dad? What's wrong?"

David had left his number with his dad when they spoke on Thanksgiving, but only because he knew his dad would only use it in case of emergency, lest someone discover he was still alive and on the run.

"It's Helen son... She's taken a turn for the worst, and I think you need to come back home. Soon."

David hung up the phone, gathered his belongings and headed out the door; the bowl of soup still steaming on the table.

 **Flight.**

An hour later, David sat in the waiting lounge of LaGuardia Airport. The ticket had cost him all of his savings. He had another paycheck coming from the Empire Diner, but he couldn't wait until morning to talk to Dan. Besides, he knew he was going to have to change identities and he would never see Dan or Susan or Ellie or anyone from the diner again and that always made things awkward. He knew this would happen. It happened every time. He had learned not to become too attached to his environment since his accident. Still, there was usually someone he connected with on his travels. Things had been different in New York though.

The thing that troubled him the most was the night the teens attacked him. Something like that had always triggered a transformation before. Why had it not that time? Did this mean he was cured? Had his disease finally run its course? He wasn't sure if he wanted that outcome. He had been full of rage and more angry than he had ever been at another person before. If this meant he was cured, did it also mean he was left with a short temper and the desire to destroy when provoked? What kind of life could he live like that? At least up until now, people were left searching for a 7 foot tall, hulking green monster. He could still hide his true appearance and identity. But if he was still consumed by uncontrollable rage and no longer transformed, then people would be looking for David Banner.

He thought of the last time he had been so depressed. He knew that's what it was now. The last time was in San Francisco, where he'd met the beautiful psychic named Annie. What was it he had said to Annie? " _The curse may not be the creature that I turn into, but the man that I've become._ " She probably thought he was being melodramatic, but those words were becoming more poignant by the day.

45 minutes later, he was on flight 83, headed to Atlanta, where he would pick up a connecting flight to the regional airport that serviced Treverton. He was packed into a plane that felt like it was little more than a can with wings, loaded with a hundred or so other people. The passenger list was complete with screaming kids, and sick adults who kindly shared their air-born maladies with everyone on board. He wondered how long before he got sick himself. This was easily the worst Christmas he'd had in a very long time. Perhaps ever. He was never one to feel claustrophobic, but he could feel a sense of frustration building inside. He was beginning to want everyone around him gone. He didn't care where they went, just not here. He thought of an old Twilight Zone episode where a boy had acquired god-like powers and could simply close his eyes and wish everyone away.

Then he thought of Helen, sick in the Grail Valley Hospital. He didn't know how bad her condition was, but he knew it was bad for his dad to reach out to him the way he did. This made him feel even worse. He had spent his evening and early morning feeling bad for himself; annoyed and irritated at every trivial thing in his life, while his sister lay in a hospital bed, fighting an uncertain future.

He was suddenly very tired and weary of life. He stretched back as much as he could, to try and get some rest. He soon fell asleep. In his dream, he was back at the Culver Institute. He went about his day the way he had every day before his accident, except he realized that he was wearing a mask. No one else in the dream seemed to notice. When he got home at night and took off the mask, he looked in a mirror but no longer recognized the face staring back at him.

 **Helen.**

Touchdown came with the new day, and David found D.W. waiting for him at the gate.

"Hello David."

"Hi dad."

The two embraced for a moment before D.W. led David out to where he'd parked the truck.

"You look tired son. Did you get any sleep?"

"A little on the flight, but not much. I haven't been sleeping well."

David put his pack in the back of the pickup truck cab, just behind his seat and settled in for the ride to the hospital.

"We can go to the house if you want to catch up on some sleep."

"No. I can't sleep right now. I need to see Helen."

D.W. nodded, and started the pickup truck. He drove to the parking lot exit and made the turn toward the Grail Valley Hospital.

The sun was shining and there was a nice coating of snow on the ground. It was a welcome change from the dismal New York winter he had left behind.

"How is she doing?" It was the question he had been dreading the answer to, but one that could not be avoided.

"Not good. The doctors say she's got Aplastic Anemia, like your mom had before she died."

David sighed heavily. "Have they tried radiation therapy?"

"Yes, but it only helped for a week or so. She's continued to get worse since then."

"That means the only option left is... Allogeneic bone marrow transplant."

D.W. nodded.

David's mind was already reeling when it came upon another realization. "But you're too old to be a donor, and that leaves..."

"David, you know if there was another way, I'd-"

"Dad, I can't! I wish that I could, but... you remember my disease? It's affected my DNA. The DNA in my bone marrow might mutate hers and infect Helen with what I've got. I can't take that chance with her life."

"Son, you're the only chance she has for life. The doctors say that if she does get a marrow transplant soon, it's only a matter of days before we lose her."

David turned sullen and looked out the window at the trees and bushes dotting the landscape as it rolled by. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure he was still suffering from his affliction after the episode with the teens in New York. And even so, could his DNA mutation pass to his sister through a transplant? It was a question with only one way to answer, and his sister's life was at stake. He'd been reckless and impatient before - that's what got him into this predicament - and he didn't want to multiply it by sharing his affliction with Helen. He was still conflicted and largely undecided about the idea when they arrived at the hospital.

Helen lay sleeping in the Intensive Care Unit when they entered. David's heart sank. She was pale as snow, and had lost so much weight since he last saw her.

David sighed resignedly, turned to his dad and said, "I'll do it."

 **Transfusion.**

D.W. gave David a "thumbs up" sign from doorway as he was wheeled into the Operating Room. He looked over to his left and saw Helen, sleeping peacefully.

"Alright David, " the anesthesiologist said, "I want you to focus on my forehead and count backwards for me, starting at 20." He placed a mask over David's mouth and nose.

David was engulfed by the scent of rubber from the mask as he started to count down.

"Twenty. Nineteen ... Eighteen ... Seventeen ... Sixteen ... Fifteen ... Fourte...

He awoke in a hospital room that was empty save for himself and D.W., who was reading the paper. He felt as though he had a mouth full of cotton stuffing.

"Drink," he said weakly, and tried to swallow.

D.W. got up and poured some ice water into a light salmon colored plastic hospital cup. He helped David sit up, and handed him the cup.

David drank slowly, thankful to be rid of the cotton feeling in his mouth.

"How is Helen?" He grimaced a bit as he leaned over to place the cup on the table beside him. He felt a soreness in his hip where they'd taken the bone marrow.

"She's good. She's resting in her bed in the I.C.U.. The doctor said you might be a little sore in the hip for a day or two, but you're cleared to go see her as soon as you feel up to it."

"Good. Maybe in an hour or so, after the affects of the anesthesia wear off." He collapsed back onto the bed, and closed his eyes to rest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

 **A Turn for the Worse.**

An hour and a half later David and D.W. sat in the I.C.U. waiting room. The only other people in the room were a couple in their 30's. The woman smiled politely at David and his dad when they had entered the room, but there was a sadness in her eyes that the smile could not hide. D.W. rifled through a stack of Time magazines and settled on the one with Ronald Reagan on the cover, titled "AWACS, He does it again." He sat down and began to leaf through the magazine.

"I don't know how you can read that dad."

"Like it or not David, the man is the President of the United States and he's got the potential to finally turn things around for the country."

"Well, we'll have to disagree on that point. But I meant that I don't know how you can read anything at a time like this. Helen's not out of the woods yet, you know." His voice took on a more conspiratorial tone, "and even if the transfusion cures her anemia she could still have contracted my 'disease'."

D.W. put the magazine down on his lap to look at his son. "I know that David, but there's no point in dwelling on it. We made the best decision we can given the situation and the options open to us. Now, all we can do is wait."

"I hope you're right dad, but I still have to live with the consequences - whatever they may be."

The man across the room eyed David warily at that remark, and David decided it was best to keep quiet.

Ten more minutes passed before a nurse came into the room. "Mr. Banner?"

"Yes?" David and his dad replied in unison.

Taken a little aback, the nurse shook her head slightly and continued, "Helen is awake and you may go in to see her now."

"Thank you," they both said, though this time not in unison.

David felt a wave of relief wash over him when he saw his sister reclined in her bed. Her color was less pale and she even managed a smile when she saw him.

"David, it's so nice to see you. The doctor said you're the only reason I'm alive, I guess I owe you again."

David had no words. He only squeezed Helen's hand and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. He felt a mixture of relief, joy and love overwhelm him and he cried for the first time in a very long time.

Even D.W. was overcome at the sight of his daughter's health returning and was getting watery eyes.

They visited Helen the next day and she almost looked like her old self. Her color was coming back nicely and her stamina was improving, although she still could only entertain her visitors for short periods.

"Did dad tell you that we had a bumper crop this year?" Helen asked David.

"No. That's great! I guess things are going well without old Eckart around, eh?" he flashed her a conspiratorial smile.

"David's been in New York the past couple of months," D.W. said.

"Oh, how's life in the Big Apple?" asked Helen.

"Well, to be honest, the weather stinks this time of year and I'm not unhappy to be home again. Besides," he said as he slipped into a bad Marlon Brando impersonation from The Godfather, "you made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

"Oh David! You always were a bit of a clown!" Helen said as she chuckled. She waited a beat and then she grabbed his hand lovingly, "but seriously, thank you so very much. I don't want to think of where I'd be without you."

They spent a couple of hours like this; catching up on each other's lives, sharing old memories and becoming sappy and emotional. Finally, they could see she was growing tired again.

"Tell you what," said D.W., "why don't David and I let you rest a while." Then, turning to his son he added, "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Let's see how bad this hospital food really is!"

It was even worse than they imagined. But they ate heartily, having discovered that once the weight of the days events had lifted, they were really quite hungry.

On their way back to Helen's room, they were just getting off the elevator to the Intensive Care Unit when they heard a loudspeaker announcement: "Paging Doctor Blue, Doctor Blue to room 310. Doctor Blue, room 310"

"Dad, that's Helen's room," David shouted as he Dashed off for room 310. D.W. followed briskly behind.

When they got to the room, they pushed their way past a nurse near the door who was frozen in place by what she saw. The doctor on call was doing his best to subdue Helen who was struggling wildly to break free of his grasp, trying to get up from the bed. A sound like a seal's bark emanated from her mouth as she tried desperately to fill her lungs with air. Her eyes were wide open with panic and pale as fresh fallen snow, but her skin was green.

 **A Rocky Recovery.**

"Nurse! Give me 6mg of Midazolam!"

The nurse stood motionless.

"NURSE!" startled from her trance-like state, she jerked into motion to fulfill his command.

"Helen! Helen, can you hear me?" David shouted, rushing to her side opposite the doctor. "Try to calm down. It's okay. You're going to be okay." He emphasized each syllable as he said them. "Listen to the sound of my voice. Relax. Breathe. That's it, that's it. Nice and steady." He grabbed her hand and began to stroke it calmingly, like he saw Dr. Baxter do during his time at the zoo with Elliot, when the massive gorilla would become frightened.

Helen's eyes focused on David's and her breathing began to moderate. The doctor deftly injected the sedative into her arm, and within seconds she was on her way to unconsciousness.

As she sunk deeper into sleep and became limp on the bed, her skin color lost its greenish hue and she began to look normal again.

The doctor let out a huge sigh of relief and wiped his brow. "I'm sorry. I'm at a loss as to how to explain this... I've never..." His voice trailed off before he caught himself, and regained his composure, "I'll have to consult with some colleagues on the details of your sister's condition. I'll let you know where we stand after that."

"Thank you doctor," said D.W.. "She seems to be sleeping peacefully now, so I think she's ok. We'll stay with her."

"Well, I'd better post a watch on her all the same. We don't know what's going to happen when she comes out of this when the sedative wears off."

"Sure," said D.W., nodding agreeably as he walked the doctor and nurse out of the room.

David collapsed into the chair, his head in his hands.

"David-" began D.W., before he was cut off.

"There's no use dad, " David said, running his hands through his hair as he stood up to look out the window. "We both know what's happened here. And we know what it means." David's heart broke at the thought of his sister having to give up her life as she had known it and go on the run, always living in the shadows and underground like he had. She deserved so much more than that.

"Son, I can't pretend to know what you've had to live with since your accident, but we don't know that Helen is going to have the same reaction you did. You said yourself that yours was brought about by exposure to radiation. Helen's exposure was through your bone marrow... maybe it's like an infection for her and her body will fight it off."

"You don't know that dad."

"That's right, David. We don't know. So before your mind goes down dark paths and you condemn your sister to your fate, remember: we don't know."

David considered that for a moment and shrugged.

"Maybe you're right. Her skin color changed, but she didn't have a full blown transformation. Maybe that's the extend of her symptoms... a pale copy of my own."

D.W. nodded and seemed to relax a little at David's analytic calmness to the situation.

"Well, regardless of the details, the one thing we know for sure is that the medical staff at the Grail Valley Hospital is not equipped to deal with her condition. We're going to have to tread carefully and maneuver Helen through the healthcare system to get her out of the hospital and back home, where we can deal with this on our own."

"And we're going to need to tell Helen and hope she can remain calm enough to prevent another episode," said D.W.

Just then, Helen sat up shaking her head in confusion, "Tell me what? What happened? The last thing I remember was... having difficulty breathing."

 **Explanations and Implications.**

D.W. and David shared a look of dread between the two of them.

"Come on," said Helen. "I know you two are hiding something. What is it?"

David cleared his throat and began to speak, "Helen, you had a react-"

He was interrupted by a knock at the door as the doctor entered.

"Alright, I've posted a watch on your..." He trailed off as he became aware of Helen sitting up in bed, conscious again. He rushed to her side and immediately began to take her vital signs. "How long have you been awake?"

"Ummm... only a few minutes. Why? Will somebody please tell me what's going on?" David could hear the tone of her voice begin to lean toward exasperated. He knew that nervousness and outright panic might begin again if she wasn't reassured soon.

"Well, I don't understand it. I gave you enough Midazolam to put you to sleep for at least an hour or two. You seem to have remarkable powers of recovery, young lady." He smiled his best reassuring, fatherly smile. David was sure Helen could see through the facade.

"Doctor, could we have a few minutes alone with my daughter please?" said D.W..

"Yes, of course." Said the doctor. "Her vitals check out just fine, so I don't think there will be a problem. Just push the paging button if you need anything."

Once the doctor had left the room, David began to answer Helen's questions.

"You had a negative reaction to some stimuli, and began to present symptoms similar to my ... condition." Said David, sheepishly.

"What sort of negative reaction, exactly? And what was the nature of the stimuli?" Countered Helen.

D.W. felt a headache coming on at the talk of 'stimuli' and the clinically sanitized way they referred to a 'negative reaction.' Why did both his children take after their mother in that regard? Why hadn't he been blessed with at least one child who was content to be a humble farmer and follow in his footsteps?

"You began to present the symptoms of acute chloro-pigmentosum and respiratory distress. You don't remember any of this?"

D.W. sighed as he sat down and began to massage his temples.

"No," said Helen, in shock. "What was the trigger?"

"That I don't know," said David, shaking his head. "Dad and I were downstairs having lunch, and when we got back on the floor we heard a page for your room and by the time we got here, the doctor was struggling to restrain you. He administered 6mg of Midazolam, which should have rendered you unconscious for at least an hour."

Helen frowned. "So my body chemistry has definitely changed."

David nodded. "Yes. Although we don't know the degree to which it has been altered. You have begun to manifest some of the same symptoms I have, though not as acute."

D.W. began to see what David was doing. By inundating Helen with medical jargon, he seemed to have engaged the clinical part of her brain so she could discuss the events and her situation with detachment. Though David didn't always appreciate the subtle use of what D.W. saw as basic people skills to get what you wanted and often dismissed such things as little more than political tactics and coercion, he had to hand it to his son - he knew how to use the right techniques when it mattered most.

"The good news," David continued, "is that you didn't experience a full-blown physical transformation. Your skin seemed to change as if you had jaundice, albeit green instead of yellow, but that was the extent."

"But I don't have any memory of any of that." Helen was more alarmed by that fact than anything else they had told her.

"Yes, that's part of it too," said David.

"So where do we go from here?"

"Well, the doctor was definitely alarmed by your symptoms and wants you under observation for a few days at least. I don't see how can convince him that he didn't see what he saw. He's playing it cool so far, but only because he's not sure what's going on and doesn't think dad or I know just how out of the ordinary this is for what you've been through."

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Helen that made her feel as though she'd been kicked in the belly, "What if it happens again? And what if it happens while I'm still here?"

David's heart broke as he realized his sister was now fearing what he had been living for the past few years of his own life. Murky memories of being stuck in mid transformation after contacting a mysterious meteorite, and being hunted by the secret government agency known only as "Project Prometheus" came unwanted to the forefront of his mind.

 _Then you'll likely be hunted down and treated like the experiment of the century_ , David thought - but didn't say.

 **Square One.**

"You can't do this!" David said, his voice reaching a fevered pitch.

"I'm sorry Mr. Banner," the doctor began in a matter-of-fact tone, "but your sister needs the special care and treatment that's only available at the University of Colorado Hospital."

"But that's all the way out in Aurora!" David felt that his voice had reached a panicked crescendo as he realized that it was over four hours away by car.

"Yes, I realize that it's an inconvenience, but we're just not specialized enough to meet your sister's needs here. Besides, the University of Colorado Hospital is on the cutting edge of new medicine. If anybody can help Helen, it'll be Dr. Fernandez. He's a leader in his field and the eminent physician at the University. We'll be taking her by ambulance to the airport shortly. I'm sorry we can't let you ride on the same plane, but if you hurry you might be able to get a plane out early this afternoon. If you'll excuse me, I have to check in on some other patients."

David was momentarily knocked off guard by this turn of events.

"Nurse, can I have the chart for the patient in room 214B, please," the doctor said as he walked off, before David had recovered his wits enough to continue the discussion.

Ten minutes later, David paced the 1st floor hallway outside the phone booth while D.W. made the call to the airport to reserve two tickets from Montrose County Regional airport to Denver International. He was agitated. There was no other way to describe it. Everything inside him told him he needed to get Helen home and away from prying medical eyes. Instead, the situation was escalating by the minute and he was unable to devise a way out of this conundrum.

"Right," said D.W. as he emerged from the booth, "we've got two tickets for the 2:30 flight to Denver."

"Let's hope we don't need them," was David's reply. After his last conversation with the doctor, David had asked that D.W. get the tickets just in case.

"Any luck getting the doctor to change his mind?"

"No," David sighed. "He's been tied up with other patients all morning."

Despite their best efforts, an hour later they were packed into an elevator with an orderly, a nurse and Helen. Helen looked up at D.W. nervously. He grabbed his daughter's hand and gave it a squeeze and flashed her a confident smile that belied his own emotional state. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. The orderly pushed Helen's wheelchair down the hall and outside to a waiting ambulance.

"David, I'm worried," she said as David bent down to kiss her cheek.

"It will be ok," he said. "Dad and I will be following behind you the whole way to the airport. And we got a flight that leaves just a little after yours. We'll meet up in Aurora and be complaining about the hospital food before the day is through." He gave his best attempt at a reassuring smile, though he felt as transparent as tissue paper and just about as firm in his belief that all would be well.

The orderly helped Helen up into the ambulance, and got her situated. When he was done, he hopped down and closed the door. The nurse went to speak with the driver as David and D.W. went to get into D.W.'s truck.

They were about a mile down the road before either of them spoke

"Where do we go from here, David?"

David let out a sigh, as he looked away from the view outside his window and looked down at his hands. "I don't know dad. Somehow we've got to get Helen out of the hospital system and back home. It might take them a while, but I'm afraid that the medical and research staff at the University of Colorado Hospital will eventually uncover her mutated DNA. And then the questions will really begin." David suppressed the thought that his sister might very well end up wishing he hadn't saved her life, if the medical and scientific community took the kind of interest in her that he was sure they'd take, especially if a government agency like Project Prometheus was involved.

He looked out the window as they came to a stop at an intersection. The light was red, and he observed the seemingly ordinary folk of Treverton going about their business, wondering what it must be like to lead a life like that. They probably thought their lives were dull and boring, and yearned for adventure. The irony of it all made him laugh despite himself.

"I don't see why that's so funny, David." The light changed to green and D.W. put the truck in gear before he continued, "How are we supposed to get Helen out of the system without anybody asking questions? Are we supposed kidnap her?"

David didn't want to admit it, but that thought had crossed his own mind. Before he could respond however, a dark blue, 1979 Lincoln Continental ran the red light and plowed into the side of the ambulance carrying Helen. It was a classic "T-bone" hit, and it was enough to crush the side of ambulance to half its normal width.

D.W. hit the brakes so hard that he felt like he was standing on the pedal by the time the truck came to a full stop, despite going less than 20 mph. David didn't even wait for the truck to stop. He had opened his door and hit the ground running. He ran to the back of the ambulance and tried to open the doors, but they were crushed beyond all use. A gap had opened up between the doors just large enough that he could get a glimpse of Helen. The side of the ambulance where the Lincoln hit had been crushed inward and pinned her to the opposite side.

"Helen!" David shouted, "Helen! Can you hear me?"

She did not answer.

D.W. came back around from the front of the ambulance. "The driver is alive but unconscious. The EMT is dead."

"I can see Helen. She's pinned to the other side," David said.

He began to bang on the doors and shout again. "Helen! Helen! Can you hear me?! Helen!"

She began to stir.

"She's alive," he told his dad. D.W. breathed a sigh of relief. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his sweaty brow.

"Helen, how badly are you hurt?"

Helen moved slowly and began to assess her situation groggily. "I think I'm ok. My head hurts a lot. What happened?"

"You've been in an accident. Hold on and we'll get you out. Can you free yourself and come toward the doors?"

Helen seemed to pause for a moment. Then her eyes widened.

She shook her head, "No David. I'm stuck. I can't feel my legs and they won't move!" Her voice went from despair to panic with that sudden realization.

David could feel the situation begin to slip out of his control. He tried to pry the doors open, to no avail. He was simply not strong enough. He began to have thoughts against his will of parallels to the events that led to Laura's death. He hadn't transformed into the creature since that night in New York City. And that situation with the teen hoodlums before he left should have triggered a transformation. He was unsure if he would ever change again, and now he found himself wishing he could.

D.W. saw David's struggle with the doors and ran off to his truck.

"Just try and relax! We'll have you out as soon as we can."

"David! Help me! I... can't ...breathe...!" Her pleas came in staccato as she gasped for air, making an obscene croaking sound in between words.

David knew that his time was running out. He needed to get Helen out of there before she had another episode like the one at the hospital - or worse. He didn't know what would happen if she were to fully transform. He wasn't even sure she could have a full blown transformation, and he was determined not to find out.

"Helen, take deep breaths. Slow down and try to relax! You're having a kind of asthmatic reaction," he lied.

"David... [croak!]... I ...[croak!] -" Silence. That last croak sounded thin and raspy, like the last vestige of air leaving a deflated balloon.

"Helen!" David's voice took on a now welcomed guttural quality. He could feel adrenaline surge through his body as that feeling of loss of control overtook him. His shirt was torn open as his chest and shoulders expanded beyond any natural limit for his size, and his shoes split as his skin adopted that old greenish hue.

By the time D.W. returned with a crowbar from his truck, the hulking green behemoth had taken David's place and tore open the doors like they were tinfoil.

D.W. watched in awe as the creature who was his son mere moments ago brought his arms together and flexed his entire upper body, with a roar of defiance that seemed to dare what was left of the ambulance to try and stop him. With one more growl, he climbed aboard the ambulance and began to push against the collapsed wall. As the creature pushed the ambulance back into shape, the Lincoln Continental that had previously been embedded in the side, began to retrace its final moments before the crash. It was as if someone was running the clock backwards in slow-motion. Bystanders who had come over to help the driver of the Lincoln backed away in horror and awe, unsure what would happen next.

His immediate task complete, the creature howled an angry protest to the world and turned its attention toward the figure lying prone before him.

Helen lay on the floor, breathing heavily and with greenish skin and a now deformed cranium - the result of her stillborn transformation. She looked up at her brother as he knelt down to pick her up. She smiled and mouthed the words _I love you,_ for she could no longer speak. Then she went limp for one last time in his arms.

The creature began to look her over for some clue as to what to do next. Trying to discern why she had suddenly stopped moving. Instinct told him she was gone to that place from where living things do not return. This grieved him and he placed her down again in the gentlest of ways. He stroked her hair lovingly and began to moan like an animal in pain. He touched her face as it began to glow and rearrange itself back into the face of Helen. The creature wept at the site of this new face, though it seemed strangely familiar to him.

Then he stood up, suddenly alert to the sound of sirens. He began pounding at the roof of the ambulance with his fists to make room for his full height. Then he jumped out of the ambulance and let forth a mighty roar. It was the kind of roar that contains all the heartache and sorrow of a civilization built on oral tradition. It was a roar of pain and loss. As the sirens grew louder, that sense of loss and pain was replaced with anger and fear as the creature pushed cars out of his way and ran off down a nearby alley, away from the oncoming sirens.

D.W. let the crowbar fall from his hands and felt himself climb into the ambulance. He had the feeling of an out-of-body experience. It was like he was watching a movie of someone else.

"Oh Helen... we tried... we tried..." D.W. cradled his daughter in his arms and wept.

~ The End ~


End file.
